


Please (No)

by Anna_Hopkins



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (don't let the title fool you), Consensual Sex, Edgeplay, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts Seventh Year, M/M, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:52:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Anna_Hopkins
Summary: Fanfiction of TheFatalIllusion'sTruth or Dare?fanfiction on FFN, taking place a few days after the end of that story. Harry used to worry about the war. Now, he doesn't have to - and of course his hormone-addled brain goes right for the next most exciting thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Truth or Dare?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/405474) by TheFatalIllusion. 



> If you haven't read TheFatalIllusion's _Truth or Dare?_ on FFN, please make sure to read it -- https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6045275/1/Truth-or-Dare -- for best context.

It was the third night since their eventful return to Hogwarts, and Harry's third night spent pacing restlessly about the Room of Requirement until he grew tired enough to sleep. He was half-regretting his decision to withdraw from the war, not because he wanted to fight, but because his mind, free of nearly all his worries, now had ample space to devote to thoughts more suited to his age group.

Particularly, the belated realization that he was perhaps bisexual, or at least, he was for one wizard he'd met. How else to explain the way every thought of his new best friend -- Tom -- _Voldemort_ \-- was getting him hot under the collar? Because, to his mortification, it was.

The familiar door to his latest room in The Room, a stone one camouflaged into the wall, appeared on his left and Harry ducked in quickly, willing the four-poster bed from Slytherin to Gryffindor colours (it kept going green-and-silver) before he flopped down on the cushioned sheets, kicking his boots off into the corner. Oh, he shouldn't have tormented his friends so much during truth-or-dare -- then he'd never have had to face the knowledge of what kissing Tom was like.

Just thinking about it again was making him feel out-of-sorts. He _wanted_ to have a wank, but not to this subject matter; for two nights he'd resisted the urge, hoping his desire would just go away, but now he gave up resisting, and let his traitorous thoughts drift down the road of lustful could-have-beens.

He _could_ have fought back less when Tom made to kiss him the first time, and just let that forked tongue in without complaint. Better, he could have brought it up again when they shared the bed that evening, and been less stringent about keeping them separated. It was entirely normal, his libido argued, for a low-quality mattress like theirs to sink in the middle and bring them together; moreover, it had been rather cold, hadn't it, so there was no reason not to huddle close to that broad-shouldered back and press his face into --

 _No, no, not that far._ Harry swallowed thickly, trying to cut off the rest of that train of thought, and was painfully aware of the tightening in the front of his trousers. _There is no way I could have done all that - not with everyone there!_ Not the kiss, nor the bed-sharing fantasy that was _still_ playing, half-formed, behind his eyes.

"Oh, hell," he breathed, reaching down to undo the buttons and pull down the zipper. His breath hitched as the image of the Dark Lord's hands made its way to the forefront of his mind, unbidden. Those long, slender fingers -- how would Tom do this to him? Did Dark wizards even have to wank? Harry imagined Death Eaters offering their mouths to their Lord while he sat in his throne; suddenly envious of the very concept, he imagined himself in their place, imagined being chosen, imagined -- "Ah!"

Oh Merlin, he wanted it. Wanted to taste Tom's skin, wherever the Dark Lord allowed him to taste. "Oh, _Tom_ ," Harry moaned, hips bucking, wanking himself as hard as he could handle. "Tom, Tom, Tom --" he was about to go over the edge --

 

" _Harry?_ "

 

Harry opened his eyes (when had he closed them?), paralysed, to find himself no longer in the Room of Requirement. In fact -- _oh, no_ \-- he was on a sofa in what looked like a study, and Voldemort was staring at him from an armchair near the flickering light of the hearth, surprise etched into his serpentine face. Merlin, he was even hotter in person. Belatedly, Harry realised he was still holding his cock in his hand.

"Oh Merlin, please tell me this isn't happening," Harry said in a strained voice. "How...how did I get here?" He was going to _die_ of mortification, no no no no, and why couldn't his erection at least go away for a minute, and please let Tom not notice –

There was amusement in the Dark Lord's red eyes; Harry couldn't tear his gaze away. Tom had probably just Legilimized him. _Oh, no, he's looking, he KNOWS._

And yet. Those half-shadowed lips were curving up into a very pleased smirk. Harry thought he might have seen a bit of the Dark Lord's forked tongue lick them over for a moment. "You look absolutely _wrecked_ , Harry," murmured Tom in a voice that carried. "Pray tell, what _have_ you been up to?"


	2. Chapter 2

_ “You look absolutely  _ _ wrecked _ _ , Harry. Pray tell, what  _ _ have _ _ you been up to?” _

 

Harry blanched. What was he even going to say to that? That he’d been...touching himself, to the fantasy of kneeling to suck Tom’s cock?

The Dark Lord’s eyes had darkened from amusement to a sort of hungry fascination; again, all too late, Harry realized he hadn’t broken eye contact. And he still wasn’t averting his gaze: staring into Tom’s -- Voldemort’s -- eyes, he remained frozen in place as the Dark Lord slowly rose from his armchair and crossed the room to the sofa, all too aware of their proximity as Voldemort loomed over him, lit from behind by flickering flame.

“You may recall that the prison spell permitted wandless magic, after it was weakened that evening.” Harry didn’t attempt to nod; Voldemort could read his understanding from his thoughts. He seated himself on a conjured stool beside the sofa, resting his elbows on the cushioning next to Harry’s head. “Technically, I could have put up silencing wards on that bed.”

Oh sweet Merlin, he had seen the bed-sharing fantasy. Harry’s breath hitched in a stifled gasp as Tom leaned in closer, his cold fingertips trailing over his cheek in a feather-light caress. A thumb traced over his lips, parting the lower from the upper. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to move, not to lick at it with the tip of his tongue.

“ _ I should have ravished you then. _ ” Harry flinched at the switch to Parseltongue, an involuntary whine escaping him as the words sent blood straight to his increasingly blue balls. Voldemort’s voice, now, was low and rich with undeniable lust; this was the wizard who had seen every one of his fantasies, and could possibly sense the new one just planted in his head. “ _ We are the only ones who didn’t, you know. Even Lucius...had a wank.” _ A pointed glance at where Harry’s hand still wrapped around his throbbing member in an unsuccessful attempt to cover himself; in the moment of broken eye contact, Harry followed the gaze, to see he’d begun leaking fluid in anticipation, dribbling wet and slick over his hand. He swallowed, glancing at the Dark Lord’s lap, and saw -- drank in, more like -- the visible bulge in black robes.

“ _ Had I been more certain of your interest, _ ” and Harry moaned properly when Voldemort’s hand traced a lazy path down his bare chest to his hips, “ _ none of the others would have been able to look you in the eye in the morning. Not after hearing you break the silencing wards as you screamed my name. _ ” The wandering hand joined Harry’s own, startling another cry from his lips.

“Ah!” Harry arched his back, toes curling. Voldemort pushed his hand away, taking Harry entirely in his own, smooth grip, and began a tight, slow pace that melted Harry’s thoughts like butter. How could just this one thing feel so  _ good _ ? “ _ Please _ \--”

“Mm, what do you want, Harry? Tell me, won’t you,” he rubbed at the dripping head of Harry’s cock with his thumb, scraping a little against the sensitive glans with his nail, and chuckled at the desperate wail it drew from Harry’s throat. “...my  _ best friend _ ?” Still edging him, the Dark Lord was also climbing onto the sofa, leering down with a cruel, cruel smile.

“Do you want to be  _ ravished _ , Harry?”

He could cry. “Nn -- nyes! Yes!”  _ Anything to  _ _ come _ _ , please, please _ \--

“... _Anything_ , you say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. I'm going to make it 3 chapters, rather than 2. Sorry-not-sorry to leave you hanging. ♥


End file.
